Chapter seven- Drowning in silence

Amelia POV

A sharp knock yanked me from my restless sleep. My body ached from the weight of exhaustion, the bruises of yesterday’s silent battles pressing against my skin like invisible shackles. I forced my eyes open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. The mansion remained eerily quiet, the way it always was—cold, hollow, like an abandoned palace where ghosts whispered through the corridors.

Another knock. More urgent this time.

“Mrs. Cole.” The voice was flat, indifferent—one of the housemaids Maxwell had instructed to ‘handle’ me. “Get ready. Mr. Cole wants to see you.”

Maxwell? At this hour?

My gaze flickered to the old clock on the wall—6:00 AM. My stomach twisted. Maxwell hadn’t spoken to me in weeks. Not really. He tolerated my existence the way one tolerated an uninvited guest. Now, suddenly, he wanted to see me this early.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and got dressed. A simple navy blue dress. Modest, forgettable. My fingers trembled slightly as I brushed through my tangled hair, forcing myself to look presentable. Even if Maxwell barely looked at me, I couldn’t afford to give him another reason to despise me.

With quiet steps, I made my way downstairs, my heartbeat loud against the silence. Maxwell stood in the grand living room, his back to me, his hands tucked in his pockets. Even from a distance, I could feel the tension radiating from him, the icy detachment that had become his armor.

“You’re coming with me.”

The words landed like a command, not an invitation.

I hesitated. “Where?”

Maxwell turned, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a blade. “A business trip. Three days.”

I blinked, stunned. Three days? Maxwell barely tolerated my presence in his home—why would he suddenly drag me along?

“You don’t need to pack anything,” he added flatly. “You’re the wife of Maxwell Cole. You’ll dress like one.”

And with that, he walked out. No explanation. No room for argument.

I followed, my heart hammering.

The car ride was suffocating. Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. I stole a glance at Maxwell, but his expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched as he stared out the tinted window.

We pulled up to a luxury boutique, the kind I’d only seen in magazines. Maxwell strode inside without waiting for me, his presence commanding immediate attention.

“Fix her something appropriate,” he instructed the staff coldly. “Pack for three days.”

No one even looked at me for approval. They simply obeyed.

A whirlwind of dresses followed. Each time I stepped out, Maxwell barely glanced at me before dismissing the choice.

Too simple.

Too flashy.

Too dull.

It was humiliating, standing there like a mannequin while he decided how I should look.

Then, they slipped a black-red gown onto me. The fabric clung to my curves, a slit teasing up my leg. I stepped out, my pulse quickening under Maxwell’s gaze.

Something shifted. His eyes flickered with something—desire? Possession? Something darker?

No. Impossible.

His expression hardened almost instantly. “We’ll take it.”

That was it. No compliment. No acknowledgment. Just another cold decision.

We left, and soon, I found myself on his private jet, staring out at the endless sky. The realization hit me like a punch to the chest.

This was my first time flying. My first time leaving the country.

And yet, it wasn’t freedom. It was a gilded cage with a different view.

When we landed in Singapore, I followed closely behind him, my heart hammering with unease. We were whisked to a five-star hotel, grand enough to steal anyone’s breath—anyone who wasn’t too trapped to appreciate it.

As we stepped into our suite, Maxwell finally turned to me.

“Get ready by eight. We’re attending a dinner party.”

Then he was gone, leaving me standing there, feeling like a stranger in my own life.

At precisely 8 PM, Maxwell walked in, dressed in a sharp black suit. He barely spared me a glance before his clipped tone landed like a slap.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight. A lot of important people will be watching. You’re a Cole now so you should act like one.”

I swallowed the sting, nodding.

A trophy. That’s all I was.

The ballroom was grand, the chandeliers reflecting a million shattered versions of me. Maxwell kept his hand firm on my waist, guiding me through the sea of influential men and elegant women. I felt like a doll being paraded around—a beautiful, voiceless accessory.

Then, the commentator’s voice rang through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome our esteemed guests—Mr. And Mrs. Maxwell Cole—for the opening dance.”

Panic seized me. Dance?

Before I could react, Maxwell’s hand was on mine, leading me to the dance floor. The music swelled, and suddenly, we were dancing.

And for the first time, something changed.

His grip was firm, but not harsh. His gaze softened—just for a second like he’d forgotten to keep his walls up.

My breath caught.

Was this the real Maxwell? Was the man hidden beneath layers of cold indifference?

But then, the moment shattered.

As the dance ended, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

“Try not to make a fool of yourself next time.”

His voice was low, mocking.

The words ripped through me like glass.

I turned away, needing air. Needing escape.

The poolside terrace was quiet, the cool night breeze a temporary relief. My hands gripped the railing as I stared at my reflection in the water.

I was tired. So, so tired.

Maybe it was time to leave. Run. Escape.

But where would I go?

“Amelia Cole.”

The voice behind me was smooth, almost amused. I turned to find a woman with long blonde hair and, a round face, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

She looked at me like I was less. Like I was something she could crush.

“Why did Maxwell choose someone so weak and naive to be his wife?”

Before I could react, she shoved me.

The world tilted.

The cold water swallowed me whole.

Sinking Into Silence

Panic exploded inside me as I thrashed, my hands clawing desperately toward the surface.

But I couldn’t swim.

The dress was too heavy, dragging me down.

I gasped, but only water filled my lungs. My vision blurred, the lights above twisting into distorted shapes.

She stood above, watching.

Waiting.

Like she wanted to see me drown with a smile of victory on her face.

And for the first time, I stopped fighting.

Maxwell’s cold words echoed.

Rebecca’s cruel taunts.

Lisa’s mocking laughter.

Margaret’s disdain.

Would this be my end? Would I die a weak, unwanted woman?

No.

My body convulsed as my last breath slipped away. My mind surrendered.

And then—

Darkness.